To Drift
by Kaen
Summary: A story of Charon's life, from his origins to his ascention to become Lord of Hades. The rating might be raised later on, so be warned... Please R&R!


To Drift

Chapter 1: Sold

By Kaen

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It was dark outside, or at least, it seemed to be dark outside. From the boy's position in the latched basket, not even the slightest glint of light could be seen through the tightly woven strips of wicker. He was bent in a rather uncomfortable position, since the basket was too shallow for even his young body of seven years to sit up straightly within. In his arms rested another child; a girl of roughly the same age with long light brown hair spreading over his small chest and arms like a blanket. Her youthful face was lax with sleep, giving the child an ethereal appearance. In the dark of the basket, her brother could just barely make out her features.  

His small hands ran over her chocolate tresses gently, stroking them away from her peaceful face. She stirred slightly when his cold fingertips brushed her neck, but she settled back down quickly without saying a word. Her brother knew that she was probably having a nightmare, but didn't dare wake her. The reality of the situation was far worse than whatever dream could be playing in her defenseless mind. Suddenly, there was a sharp bump that sent the basket crashing onto its side. The boy braced himself on his elbows in order to not crush his sister, wincing as the sharp tendrils of the basket dug into his tender skin. As if to deny him his most recent wish, the girl beneath him awoke with a start, her hazy green eyes snapping open. She gasped, her small hands digging into the boys shirt in panic.

"Shhhh…" he whispers to her, pressing his cracked and bloodied lips to her brow.  "It's all right, I'm here."

"I'm scared," she tells him, shaking beneath his body. 

He smiles at her reassuringly, just like he always would, despite that fact that she wouldn't be able to see it in the dark. "Scared" was a word that summed up so many things: hungry, thirsty, hurt, dirty, _terrified_. No, they'd never found themselves in a situation quite like this one. But he smiled at her anyways, as was his duty. He reassured her just the same as he would have if she had told him that she'd lost a doll. He winced, the basket's position shifting. He pushed against its sides to support himself and his sister lets out a wail of terror, grasping his small body in her arms. The compartment rolled around in what he assumed to be the back of the wagon, completely unrestrained in the shallow keep. He felt the basket collide with a wall, stopping its movement at least momentarily. His younger sister was clinging to him desperately and was now positioned on top of him. He heard her muffled sobs and knew she was crying.

And he would have comforted her, just like he always did, if it weren't for the voices outside. The boy pressed her face into his shirt, which she was so intent on clinging to. The girl continued crying softly, not taking notice to the gruff voice outside of the confines. 

"How many?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

"Two, a boy and a girl," said the voice of their father. 

The boy winced, recalling the last time that he'd heard that voice. He was swearing at mother, yelling and cursing and hurting her, despite her shrieked protests. He yelled at him and his sister, too. But now he was so calm and succinct. The boy knew he should be scared, but he didn't know why.  Something rooted in his gut was sending tremors of fear up and down his spine, though, and he couldn't control them.

"Show me. We'll negotiate prices them," sneered the gruff voice again.

There was a moment of hesitation before the boy felt the basket being lifted and then thrown upon the ground. He whimpered when his back struck the hard ground through the rough layer of wood and the girl let out a small scream, her fingers digging so hard into his back that the boy could feel blood spreading from the points. He held on to the girl tightly anyway, though, knowing how much she needed him. Chains rattled outside the basket and the lid that had sealed them in was pulled off, sending a wave of cool air rushing into the crammed environment. Before the children could even respond to it, the basket was yanked upside-down, sending them both crashing painfully onto the stone-paved road. The boy struggled in midair, catching the basket just long enough with his legs to twist himself under the girl. His head collided with the stone road with a sickening crack, but through his now hazed mind, all he could think was: 'She's all right. I protected her.'

He cracked open an eye to his sister's screaming and he realized that he was no longer holding her to him. Black spots swam before his vision as he saw her small arm trapped in a large hand. She flailed about, her small and torn red dress and long hair moving wildly in the night breeze.  He staggered to his feet, finding it to be rather difficult to stand after several attempts. The boy finally succeeded and took a wobbly step towards the girl, but he was on the ground again before he could take his second. The pain that burned his face manifested itself and he clamped a trembling hand over it.

"Charon!" the girl's voice cut through the still night air sharply like a knife. 

'No, Iria. That's enough. Please don't say any more! No! Stop!' 

It was too late for the boy to tell her this; the girl had already collapsed to her knees while cupping her face and sobbing. A coarse hand gripped her chin and forced her tearful eyes to look up into his harsh one and she bit her lip, suppressing her sobs. The large man scrutinized her young face, traveling from her clear emerald eyes to her cure upturned nose to her pink full lips, before turning it away with a snap of his wrist.

"I'll give you two pieces of gold for the girl," the man announced to Iria's father, standing at his full height as he stared down at the smaller man.  "It's a generous offer on my part. You'd be a fool to ask more."

In his filthy hand was the two pieces of gold as offered, but the shorter man did not accept.

"What about the boy?" the father demanded harshly, motioning to the crumpled figure that lay dazed at the foot of the bridge. 

"I don't want the kid. He'll cause trouble," said the other man curtly. "I'm not paying for a boy that will be a pain in my ass."

The man wraps his strong fingers around the other mans wrist, twisting it palm-up. He shoves the two pieces of gold into it roughly, not caring that they were dropped the second that he released his hand. He walked back over to the crying girl and lifted her by wrapping a thick arm under her stomach. The pressure on her abdomen made Iria gag and fight not to throw up; it felt like she'd just been punched and she could barely catch her breath. She thrashed as best she could, but was thrown in the back of a carriage and locked inside before she could barely protest. 

She pounded at the door with her small fists, screaming, "Charon! Charon!!"

Her cries went unheeded by the slave trader as he climbed up to the high driver's seat. Gripping the reigns in one large hand, he raised his small hat to the man who glared at him from the ground below. Turning forward on the bench, the slave trader cracked the reigns and the two tired-looking horses began to move at a lethargic trot. The carriage passed by the limp boy, its driver not even sparing the child a wandering glance. 

"I…ri…a…"

The boy's lips moved, forming the syllables. The air became distinctly colder as a piercing wind permeated the clothing of those present. The boy's father turned around, his eyes wide with fear. 

"Iri…a," he said in a barely audible voice. The face that had conveyed an expression of fear and determination was now twisted somehow into an a sadistic smile, all that could be seen of him from the shadows that seemed to cling to him. 

"Please!" the father called after the slave trader. "Take him! For free! Please…!" 

"Iria," the child finally says clearly, a demand to have the girl returned to him. 

The shadows rippled again, finally giving way to a bombardment of spear-like vines that shot out faster than the eye could blink. Blood splattered onto the stones of the bridge, freezing instantly wherever they happened to land. The man that had been so unfortunate to still be on the bridge would probably no longer be recognized as ever being human when his remains were find- and this thought made the boy smirk. The vines continued to rush forward, but instead of piercing right through the wagon, they laid flat on the ground before it and caught the wheels, bringing it to abrupt but undamaging halt. 

"De-demon…" the driver stuttered out, paralyzed with terror as the vines continued to encircle the wagon.

Iria, quite contradicting the reaction of her new master, cried out, "Charon!" as if she had just witnessed the work of a blessed white angel from heaven.  

The wheels remained firmly locked in place, despite the drivers repeated crack of the reigns and curses. The boy approached the coach an eerie aura radiating from his body. His gaze was now focused on his beloved younger sister, but it had changed somehow. What had been dark and piercing was now almost innocent and loving. By the time he finally arrived in front of the door of the coach, he looked no different from any other young boy that had been badly battered. He smiled at her gently, interlacing his fingers with his sister's through the wide bars in the door. 

"Charon…" she breathes out, tears flooding her eyes. "Don't let them take me without you…"

"Demon! Get away from the girl!" cried the heavy slave driver, pointing a sharp word at the boy's neck from his perch on top of the wagon.  

"'Demon'?" Charon looked up at him with wide and unblinking eyes, which were now seen to be an unearthly shade of blue illuminated by the moonlight. "I'm not 'Demon', sir.  My name," his eyes narrow dangerously at the coach master, "is Charon."

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So… How was it? Good? Bad? Decent? Sort of?! Please review and let me know. This will most definitely be an ongoing project in which I hope to explain the past of Charon/Karon (my favorite character - you'll see why if you buy the manga).  I might have a bit of fun and actually expand this past the series, but only if someone reviews this. I get quite sad when my stories have little or no response to them, so please be generous. Thank you for reading! 


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